In a universe all alone
by Crazycatscarmen
Summary: One may meet unexpected friends. Or family. Stanford Pines is traveling the multiverse and finds an unexpected someone. Tw: Blood...um. Probably more stuff as I go along. UPDATE. I FINALLY FIGURED OUT HOW TO ADD MY ART TO STORIES! SO YAY.
1. Running

**Wow, do you all know how many things I need to update?! Yet here I am, writing more random angst. I am not sorry. Not even that angsty. Tw: Blood? Kinda.  
**

* * *

The brush was thick and green, the air heavy with humidity, making his task all that much harder. He pushed through the branches, teeth gritting in concentration as he ignored the stinging cuts the branches inflicted on his bare arms and face. Breathing itself was becoming a chore as he ran, his feet pounding on the earthen floor. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, threatening to burst at any moment.

Just an average day in the life of Stanford Pines.

He fought the instinct to look behind him, to check whether _it_ was still chasing him. He wasn't sure what it was, he wasn't sure of anything anymore, but as soon as it became aware of his presence and started toward him, large bloody teeth staring right at him in a vicious snarl that made his blood curdle and hair stand up on end, he started running. He had been waiting for it to leave the water side, hoping he could refill his canteen and maybe scrub away what felt like (and probably was) years worth of dirt and grime. It had been the first accessible, non-filthy stream Ford had found in that area, so it wasn't exactly like he could just go find another spot to rest and clean up.

That's when it saw him.

Okay, that may not be accurate. Ford wasn't sure it had eyes. Perhaps the wind shifted and it caught scent of him? Or maybe it heard him shifting in his spot, impatient to have his turn after waiting for so long. Either way, it knew Ford was there, and it was not happy to see him. It growled and jumped over the narrow gap in the earth the water provided and Ford had moments to turn and run before it snatched him up in it's large, gaping jaws. Now he was sprinting as fast as he could in the overgrown brush of the forest, hot, sticky, injured, and exhausted, yet still running.

He kept running until he was eighty-two percent sure the beast was gone, seemingly bored of chasing him, moving on to find a meal less pitiful and meager and more ready to die than Ford was. He was covered in hundreds of tiny little scratches, the vines, and limbs in this area all very sharp, with many pointed thorns. He collapsed on the ground, still heaving and did his best to stop himself from breaking any rib bones as he inhaled, his brain desperate for oxygen.

His breathing eventually came to a steady rhythm and Ford groaned, running an agitated six-fingered hand over his face, pushing up his glasses with his hand to rub his eyes.

This was one of the more hostile places he'd been to so far. Not only were the creatures carnivorous brutes, but the climate itself seemed to be out to get him. It was over eighty-degrees at least, at every time of the day. Even at night, he barely got a respite from the punishing heat. He had already been forced to ditch his old trenchcoat, not having a good enough reason to keep it around. He kept most everything he needed on his belt or the strap he had acquired in the dimension before. The trenchcoat was only another thing to carry with the weather as it was, and he couldn't afford to be slowed down by anything.

Ford laid back in the little room he had and closed his eyes. It was dangerous, to do so in foreign country. In fact, it was dangerous to relax in all country, whether he be familiarized with it or not. Yet, he was so bone-achingly tired, he couldn't muster up the energy to care. He berated himself and lamented over the fact that he probably wasn't going to find that particular stream again, even if he traced his steps backward. It wasn't that he was lacking in the tracking department, he was a great tracker, it was that the landscape seemed to shift. He was in some sort of maze, and getting out of it was looking to be impossible.

As the last bit of adrenaline leaked from his system, Ford became aware of the cuts to an even greater extent than before and sat back up again to survey the damage. He pushed his glasses up from the edge of his nose and leaned in close to his arm, squinting. { Can we acknowledge that somehow Ford kept his glasses the entire thirty years?! Okay, moment over.} And examined the small cuts scattered across the outside of his forearm.

He expected it to be bleeding, he thought it _was_ bleeding. Yet, all of them seemed to have congealed over. They weren't scabbed, precisely. More like the blood coagulated and created a thin shield of sorts. It stopped the bleeding and also kept alien bacteria from entering his bloodstream. Ford checked over the rest, and they all seemed to have done the same thing. He sighed in relief and let his head fall to his knees as he thought, not quite ready to keep moving forward. It was possible the plants were coated in some sort of congealing agent which allowed that peculiar effect to take place. Had he been back at home, he would have run a few tests and had the answer to that question in moments. Now he could only speculate. It was frustrating, but nothing to dwell over now.

He pushed himself back onto his feet, wobbling for a second as black spots danced before his eyes. He really needed that water if he wanted to get out of here. Or live to see the next few minutes of his life, since falling asleep like this was definitely not going to be good for his health with all these creatures roaming about. Ford huffed and clenched his jaw in concentration as he forced himself to move. He used the trees to help keep him steady as he got back into the motions of walking. Surely there had to be another source of water around somewhere, right? What with all this bright green growth, and the air that felt like he was trudging through mud? It was improbable for there not to be one around somewhere.

Improbable, but not impossible. Ford whimpered, his feet tripping up on a stray root and he stumbled, barely catching himself.

This was going to suck.

 **...**

The grass beneath him was razor sharp, but Ford relished the feeling as he laid back, staring into the bright pink sky.

It had taken several days, but he eventually made his way out of the endless greenery and into a new dimension. When he got past the agonizing burning that accompanied traveling through a rift in space-time, he stepped onto the grassy plain with a smile. Not a tree in sight. The air was lighter, the weather more spring-like, and all around more _friendly._ He was on guard, of course. No need to be caught up in what may be a false sense of security, but he enjoyed feeling like he wasn't about to be murdered by the very plants that surrounded him. It was nice to breathe in and feel rejuvenated, rather than work for every single breath he took.

He had already taken the opportunity to start a campfire. The dimension he found himself already on the brink of night. He gathered what fuel he could from bushes, the wood was a strange purple, and the smell the smoke put off as they burned reminded him of cooked peaches, which in turn got him thinking about peach-cobbler. Oh, how he missed deserts. And food in general. It was amazing how much he had taken for granted before, and now would have given anything to have just one last time. Just so he could memorize it all before saying goodbye forever.

Now he was grateful to have clean water, and sometimes even muddy lake water if that's what was available to him.

Ford sighed, a peaceful smile adorning his features as he pulled his canteen from his belt with a _click._ He carefully unscrewed the top and swigged the contents, the fresh, cold liquid leaving him feeling reinvigorated. He sat up and blinked, trying to let the peaceful lull last a moment longer before he got back to work, ensuring his own safety. He was in a strange, unknown land. Who knows what night could bring.

He pushed himself off the ground with a grunt and set to work. Even though he was in the middle of an open field, that didn't leave him completely vulnerable. The fire burned steadily behind him as he began to shield the area he made for himself, shifting the limited number of mobile objects around him to stop the light from shining in every direction, giving himself some discretion. That way, if anyone looked his way, it might hide him from plain sight. Although, the probability of either were very slim. Nothing looked to inhabit anywhere near here, and even if darkness brought about some unexpected friends, they weren't necessarily _hostile_ , right?

Who was he kidding? Shoot first, ask questions while you're doing it.

That done, he settled back into place, unsure whether to sleep while the fire was still going, wait until it went out, or just rest during the day, and move by night. Obviously, he wouldn't be moving just then, but whether he was going to sleep or not was still up for debate.

Ultimately, he couldn't fight his drooping eyelids anymore, and his entire body betrayed him as he fell into a deep, _deep,_ sleep.

* * *

 **I don't even like peach cobbler. Or maybe that's apple pie. Have I ever even _had_ peach cobbler? I don't know. **


	2. Falling

**I freaking love my boys, let's do this.  
**

* * *

Stan stumbled backward, feet catching on one of the many random bits of metal scattered about the large room. He hit the ground, a brief pain rushing up his arms as he caught himself on the palms of his hands.

The portal was glowing.

He wasn't sure what he did, exactly. All he knew was that he had been fiddling with some of buttons and levers for the millionth time, hoping, but not really expecting to make any headway with the machine. It had been almost two years since he lost his brother to the dang thing, and he was starting to lose hope. He had read and re-read that darn journal, searched every day in the woods for the other two, but had no luck in actually accomplishing anything.

Now the ground was shaking beneath him as the portal whirred to life.

The air crackled with the painfully familiar blue lightning as Stan stared at it in horror. His eyes wide with surprise as he mind tried to comprehend what was happening.

That's when it clicked.

He had _done it!_ He had turned the portal on! He could finally save his brother! Stan's horror melted away was replaced by adrenaline and excitement, he floundered forward, desperate to catch a glimpse of his brother as he came out of the thing that had taken him away in the first place. Stan's foot caught again and he cursed as he suddenly lurched forward, tensed and ready to head face forward to the ground.

The hit never came. He opened his eyes to see the ground, inches from his face.

He was floating.

His arms flailed as he found himself going higher, moving closer and closer to the portal as he desperately grabbed for anything to grab onto. He was getting sucked in.

 _Nonono! This wasn't supposed to be like this! C'mon, no!_

Stan did scream as he fell through the unending blue. The electricity swirled around him, cackling, like an evil witch getting ready for her dinner. He writhed in agony, each of his atoms felt like they were on fire.

This was it, he was dying. No one could have survived this. He didn't stop screaming as his mind began shutting down, black taking over the edges of his vision.

 _Goodbye...  
_

* * *

 **Yeah, I love them so much. Which is why I torture them! You're welcome ;)**

 **( Don't die on me please, I love ya'll too much to let you die. Here *hands you chocolate* this will make you feel better. Wait, no. That's with dementors...dangit, stop crossing things, me! Ugh. )**


	3. Finding

**To answer your question, miss Nina EverBlade. Yes.**

* * *

He bolted upward, stolen from his much-needed rest by a loud thump. Using his entire body, he swung off the warm ground and onto his feet, making sure to be as silent as possible, as not to warrant an early rise from whatever was out there. Ford's eyes, now open and wary, flitted around, searching for what had caused the disturbance. He became aware of how loud his huffs of breaths were and did his best to slow it down as he gazed over the field.

Nothing...more grass...nothing...there! Something had fallen to the earth, face down. He couldn't tell what it was from this far, but he thought maybe it looked humanoid. Ford's brow furrowed in concentration and he tensed, crouching. He stayed low to the ground as he crept forward, ready to bounce back at any moment. He brought his hand to his equalizer, prepared to pull it out in an instant if need be.

He got close enough to examine what it was properly. What he saw made his eyebrows nearly rise off his face.

It was a human, definitely. It- he was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans, long brown hair covering his face. Ford thought he looked awfully familiar...

No. It couldn't be. It _can't_ be.

Using the tip of his gun, he pushed the long locks out of the man's eyes and Ford stared, his heart stopping. The air around him seemed to become several degrees cooler, his blood turning to ice. He hesitantly holstered the gun, hands shaking as he did so. Rolling the man over onto his back, Ford studied him closely.

He was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. The sunrise was giving him just enough light to make out the stains and rips in the wore down clothes. The man's face was frozen on an expression of agony as if he had been in pain before he passed out. That wasn't what was bothering Ford, however.

It was the fact that the man had his face-or more accurately-Stan's face.

"Stanley?" Ford whispered, staring in stern disbelief. This couldn't be, it had to be a shapeshifter or, or...something else. He was in the multi-verse for goodness sakes! Anything was possible!

Anything was possible.

Shaking the thought from his mind, Ford got to work. He didn't have time to speculate. He meant to tread back to his campfire, collect his things, and leave the man behind, but something stopped him. Ford felt like he was being pulled towards the man by a rope. As if they were connected. Ford sighed, eyes closing a brief moment as he turned himself around again. He allowed himself a short moment to contemplate the man before him before he bent down and hefted the limp body over his shoulder.

Ford knew that the first few times you portal hop, as he described it, your body and mind had a hard time adjusting, it was incredibly painful, and often shut down. Ford wasn't sure why this doppelganger was here, or if he had come through a portal at all, Ford didn't recall seeing one, but like he had thought earlier:

 _Anything_ was possible in the multi-verse.

...

Ford laid the man back down onto the sharp grass once more as he thought of a plan. He needed the man to wake up, he needed answers. Ford thought maybe he could use the tried and true method of pouring cold water on the man's face, but was loathe to waste the precious resource that way, and the man already looked beat up and exhausted as it was. He looked almost as bad as Ford did. Not excepting the fact that he had Ford's face. Ford sighed and made sure he had all his limited supplies, and that his canteen's lid was secured before rolling his shoulders, prepping himself to carry the man. Some might say just stay put, that he could move when the man was awake, but it was one thing that Ford had learned, it was to always keep moving, never stay in one place for more than a night. It had kept him alive so far anyway.

The last time Ford settled down for more than twenty-four hours, he ended up temporarily paralyzed. He wasn't eager to do that again, or anything like it.

With that thought in mind, Ford flung the man over his shoulder, being careful to not hurt the man or himself, no need to make this harder than it had to be. Ford picked a direction, one he thought might have trees in the distance, and began moving, doing his best to pace himself. Ford was a lot stronger than he had been before, and the man was lighter than he expected (he kept thinking of how he couldn't ever lift Stanley like this) but it was still exhausting. Ford pushed onward, however, and eventually had to stop. He figured maybe it was nearly night, the sun beginning to set. Ford sighed and let the man fall to the ground off his sore shoulders. The man was still passed out. Ford knew he was alive, but he hadn't responded to anything. It reminded him of how it was nearly impossible to wake up Stanley. Ford allowed himself a brief smile, thinking over his childish exploits, before letting it fall again. Nothing could keep him happy for long here.

Ford set up camp around the limp body and decided he wasn't sleeping that night. If this wasn't Stanley or some parallel version of his brother, Ford wanted to be prepared. As the sun set on the camp, and the small fire became his only source of light, Ford sat and reminisced over what once was. Dreams of a boat and harmless adventure took over his vision as he laid back. The grass was still as sharp as ever, but Ford didn't mind, lost in thought.

...

It was a couple hours before anything happened. Ford had been on the edge of falling asleep when he heard a groan. He bolted upright, tense enough to stop a bullet. His eyes flickered over to where the man- who looked like Stanley, but Ford still wasn't sure- was moving.

 _Finally._

Ford stood up, stretched, and walked over to the moaning man. Ford knelt on the grass beside the man's head and waited for the man's eyes to open. When they did, Ford cocked a brow.

"Took you long enough. Who are you? How did you get here?" _Why do you look like him?_ Ford kept the last thought to himself. The man looked up at him with a look of unmitigated shock.

 _"Sixer?"  
_

* * *

 **Stan: Do you hate me?**

 **Me: On the contrary-**

 **Ford: She must hate us. The evidence-**

 **Me: Ford, you know very well human emotion is more complicated than any of us can properly explain, least of all yourself, Mr. introvert.**

 **Ford *Offended noise* *realizes she's right.*: Fine.**

 **Stan: I'm still...do you hate us?**

 **ME: NO! HOW DARE YOU!**

 **Sorry, all I'm hyped on fictional Jellybeans...is this ok? Was this chapter worth it? I don't even know.**


	4. freaking out

**Heyo...hi. Hello. Aloha. Hola. Greetings. Hey. Many ways to say hello, but let's get on with the fic:  
**

* * *

Stan's eyes blinked open and he took in a sharp breath before letting out a loud, pained groan. Every limb on his body felt as though he had done a rigorous exercise. His head turned when he heard something coming towards him from the side. He gritted his teeth to stop his pathetic moaning, there was no point in it.

It was dark, and the flames from the small campfire didn't provide much light, at least, not to Stan. He stiffened when a shadowed figure stepped closer from the other side of the fire, his face blurred in the dim light.

"Took you long enough." The man growled at him in a deep voice, accented in a strange way, yet somehow familiar...

The man stepped even closer, "Who are you? How did you get here?"

Suddenly, the man's face was flooded with light and Stan could see his face. A face twisted in a menacing sneer. It reminded Stan of one of his many interrogators. That wasn't what made him gasp, however.

The man looked _exactly_ like Ford. Stan felt his eyes widen and his breath caught before he could speak, his voice rasping and laced with disbelief.

" _Sixer?"_

Stan saw the man's eyes widened and watched as the man stepped back, glaring at him with suspicion. "How do you know that name?"

Stan noticed how tensed the other seemed, but he didn't care. Stan struggled with his trembling limbs to stand, but the man was beside him in a flash, one foot on top of his chest. Stan landed back on the {really pointy, what the heck?} grass and his breath was knocked out of him, he took a shuddering breath in.

" _Answer me._ " The man snarled.

Stan could feel tears pricking at his eyes, did Ford really not recognize him?

Was this even Ford?

Stan closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath before he tried to explain. "Ford, it's me! It's Stan!" Stan coughed, his breath short when the boot remained on top of him.

So much for happy reunions.

Ford's eyes {it had to be Ford, it had to be.} flickered with doubt. Stan saw it race across his eyes before disappearing once more into the night, the dark pits that used to house warm brown irises glaring at him. They seemed to pierce him, to see straight through him and Stan suppressed a shiver.

"Prove it" He growled.

Stan fell limp beneath the boot. His voice turning to little more than a whisper.

"I pushed you in- Ford- I killed you. I killed my twin, I did that. I'm sorry Ford, I'm sorry. Please, I'm-" Stan broke off, his eyes closed in agony. He did his best to collect himself- he probably wasn't helping his case- but stopped when the boot lifted off his chest.

Stan opened his eyes and saw the surprise and...something else shining in his brother's eyes.

"Stanley...is that really you? I- I don't understand...Stanley, you didn't open the portal, did you?!" Ford was suddenly gripping his shirt, lifting him up off the ground with less effort than it would take Stanley to lift a handbasket.

"Stanley! Why in the multi-verse would you do that!?" Ford spat, his mouth twisted in an angry sneer. "Do you realize what you could have done!? What you probably have-" Ford cut himself off. He dropped Stan suddenly and Stan landed on the ground with an _oof._

Stan looked up to see Ford's eyes full of shock and...fear?

"How did- How did you do it?" Ford was shaking, trembling from head to toe and Stan stood up, despite his weak legs were trembling nearly as hard as Ford was. He shook his head.

"Ford- I- I don't know. I was just...I dunno, fiddling with levers when it just...turned on? I've been studying that book...Ford, I never meant to leave you here! Ford- I'm so  
sor-"

"Shh! I'm trying to think." Ford had stopped trembling and was now pacing beside the fire back and forth. He reminded Stan of a mountain lion, impatiently pacing its cage. Stan stepped away. The way Ford went from one thing to the next- it was...terrifying. To say the least.

"For-?" Stan attempted to question once more but was again cut off with an abrupt shushing.

This was familiar at least, Ford always did tell him to be quiet when he was working on something- Stan moved away and sat on the other side of the fire.

Well, at least he _had_ a reunion. Stan thought.

Might as well be an optimist, right? Stan stifled the need to snort at his own thought.

Screw it, this sucked.

* * *

 **Lol, I got lazy.**

 **Stan: THIS SUCKED WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING?!**

 **Me: Jokes on you were not on earth.**

 **Ford: ...oh. Oh, haha, that's funny.**

 **Me: I was watching Thor Ragnarock for the first time today (My new favorite movie, I knew Thor could finally get a really good movie. The others were good, but this was exceptional. ) and I said {because I'm a movie commenter} WHAT ON EARTH?! When something surprising happened, and my mom told me they weren't on earth. *Slow clapping* Love my mom.**


	5. I'm not dead

***rises from the writer's block grave* I Have RISEN. Enjoy!  
**

* * *

Stanley bit his lip, drips of sweat gathering on his forehead as he sat in nervous tension.

Ford still hadn't spoken to him. He was still pacing the small camp- his feet making a steady rhythm against the earth. If Stan didn't know any better, he thought Ford would pace a hole into the ground. Of course, he wasn't sure what the laws of physics were here exactly. Or where 'here' was. For all he knew, it might very well be possible to pace a hole into the dirt.

He fought the urge to laugh. It wasn't a real laugh anyway, borne of anxiety rather than real amusement. He tried not to think about how Ford's scowl made a striking resemblance to Filbrick's frown and how that scowl was directed at him. Stan looked back up to his twin who was pacing in the edges of the light, half of his body shrouded with darkness. He caught a glimpse of one of Ford's dark eyes, black pits even in the light- lifeless almost. Stan shuddered.

It was Ford. A very changed Ford.

Stan wasn't sure what to do with that information. So he stayed on the ground- not daring to move in case Ford forced him down again and staying silent as to not get shushed again. Instead, he tried to focus on his surroundings. He was in another dimension, after all. Might as well enjoy the novelty before Ford or some creature came around and killed him.

Stan shifted very minutely, enough to get a good look at the sky and his breath hitched.

The night sky was...it was beautiful. The stars were bright orange against a backdrop of dark blue and purple. It didn't sound very congruent, yet they all blended to make a breath-taking scene that glittered above Stan's undeserving head. He didn't deserve this. Beauty. His brother. He didn't deserve to be here. Because he'd screwed up again- hadn't he? He was supposed to take his brother home, not join him! Stan tore his eyes away from the sky and stared at his feet.

He'd failed. Again.

Stan dug his nails into the palm of his hands and hugged his legs, his head resting on his knees. He was going to get a headache staying like that, but he didn't care. Any pain he got he believed he deserved.

That didn't mean he was giving up on...on anything- he just wasn't going to fight what he thought was just punishment.

Stan wasn't sure how long he stayed like that, curled up on the grass that he swore was sharp enough to poke holes in his pants. It must have been while- he was incredibly stiff. Only moving when Ford finally broke free of his thoughts to address him. Stan had to hold back the need to flinch away as Ford stalked forward silently. A dark looming shadow in the night.

...

Ford paced when he was frustrated. It was just something he did and right now he was very, very frustrated.

He was having a hard enough time surviving out here on his own. Then Stanley, the man who had _pushed_ him into this fate in the first place, shows up, literally out of the blue lightning of the portal and expects him to be happy about it?! Now he had to worry about his home dimension- what had happened? Had Bill already destroyed it? Did a rift form- like he had theorized? If his home-dimension imploded, would he go with it? Was he somehow tied to that place? Was Stanley? How did Stanley turn on the portal? Did Bill help him? If so what did Stan bargain for? Was Stanley susceptible to Bill's _possession!? Was he- no._ Ford had seen his eyes. Large, wide and brown. It was fine. They were fine.

Ford took a deep breath and grimaced as he rubbed the edge of his nose. Even if his dimension _was_ in danger, he couldn't do anything about it. The only thing he could reasonably worry about at the moment was how in the multi-verse he was going to take care of both Stanley and himself.

Then it clicked, something flipped a switch in Ford's mind.

Stanley was _here_. Stanley his _brother._

Stan was here! Ford moved his hand from the bridge of his nose to cover his mouth- resisting the urge to sob.

Ford had hoped for a lot of things- pie. Real food, a bed, his laboratory, Fiddleford. Yet the thing he yearned for the most was something he had been missing for a lot longer than just two measly years.

Stanley Pines, his twin brother was here. Ford wasn't alone anymore. Stan was here, alive, breathing and...scared out of his wits. Ford felt a stab of guilt and winced softly when he thought about his treatment of his brother thus far. He glanced over to where he was sitting and stared.

Stan was curled up on the grass, his head resting between his knees. You could see the way his chest moved with his breathing way too fast. He was hyperventilating. Ford could see a faint tremor there as well. The guilt swelled even larger within him and Ford clenched his hands nervously as he walked to his brother.

Ford barely sensed the slight flinch as he made his way to Stan. Barely. Ford nearly stopped.

Stan was afraid of him.

 _Stan_ was afraid of _him._

Stan was _afraid._

Ford knew a lot of things when he was younger. He knew he would always have a brother to lean on. He knew he was smart. He knew that he was supposed to make lots of money and make dad proud of him.

Ford knew that Stan was never afraid of _anything._

He didn't really know all that much anymore.

Swallowing, Ford closed the last few steps between them and sighed in relief when Stan didn't move away. He moved slowly and kneeled down. Stan stared at him with wide-eyes and gave him a large {very much fake} smile.

"Ya done thinkin' in that big nerd brain of yours Ford?" Stan chuckled, but it was coarse and dry. Tense. Ford frowned. That didn't sound like the Stanley he knew. Although what did he know, really?

Ford closed his eyes, slowing releasing another breath as he got his thoughts together. He hadn't socialized with anyone in a really long time- but this wasn't just anyone. This was his brother. His twin.

His frightened twin brother- the bravest man he knew.

Ford opened his eyes and before Stan could react he enveloped Stan in a hug. Stan stiffened and had to hold back a yelp- only partially successfully. Ford tightened his hold and buried his head into Stan's shoulder. After another moment, Stan relaxed into the embrace. Ford didn't move, he just swayed them back and forth until he felt Stan's breath even out and his heartbeat steady to a normal-ish rate.

When this happened Ford released his brother but didn't move his head, letting it lay on Stan's shoulder. "I apologize for scaring you earlier. I am very stressed out, that is partially your fault, but I do not blame you." Ford looked up and Stan shifted away so they could look each other in the eyes. Ford gave him a small smile. The first genuine expression of joy Ford had expressed in over two years.

"I really missed you, Stanley. I-" Ford was going to tell him that he wished he wasn't here- not here in the multi-verse. He wanted him to be safe back home- he wanted home to be safe- he wanted Stan to live his life. Yet the look on Stan's face, the smile- a lot smaller than the one previous, but much truer than before stopped him.

He couldn't change the past- but he could face the future. They both would.

Together. Ford laughed to himself. _I never thought that this would happen to me. Now, look at us._

 _Maybe we'll get our adventure after all._

Stan huffed, "I missed ya too, Poindexter." Stan slowly lifted his hand and Ford stiffened as Stan ruffled his hair, but didn't move. He smirked, "I shoulda brought supplies! Not that I meant to fall inta the portal..."

Ford cocked a brow. "You didn't? Wait- tell me the story please." Ford stood up and sat closer to the fire. "From the beginning."

Stan grinned and immediately shot into his story- excluding all his suffering of course. Ford didn't need that.

 _Maybe this does suck- but at least we'll go through it together. He's not mad at me anymore! Well- I don't think so._ Stan couldn't stop smiling. He could handle travel. He'd done it for half of his life anyway.

He had a feeling this was gonna be a lot more fun. Anything was when he wasn't alone. Stan wasn't alone.

They weren't alone- and they never would be. Not again.

* * *

 **...**

 **Stan: Well that was sappy.**

 **Ford: Even I had a hard time reading this.**

 **Me: better than the last chapter anyway, right?!**

 **Ford: I suppose.**

 **Stan: Eh.**

 **Me: You two are so useless. *turns to you reader* Hey! I hoped you like this so far! I could end this here, but I actually have some really good ideas for some angsty and fluffy scenes of them traveling together, so if you want to see those, feel free to review! {and if this was trash please tell me and I will drown it.}**

 **Stan: Stop threatening to break your laptop- they're expensive. Don't let her ruin her laptop, please.**


	6. Reasons

**I wasn't planning on updating this...but since when do I stick to plans? Btw. I want everyone to know that I just wrote a five thousand word chapter and then deleted it because I thought that Stan and Ford were way too out of character. I'm...kinda ticked at myself. I spent four hours on that. So technically what your seeing is a complete redo! Enjoy! Also if this makes no sense I apologize, my brain scattered has been usual more than lately. {Is it weird that last sentence makes sense} Tw: Panica attacks, it's not very accurate though.**

* * *

It must have been some sort of cosmic joke, or maybe a pun of some sort.

The fire crackled and rose higher, it's blue and purple flames giving off a sense of calm. Perhaps it was because the fire was chasing them, growing higher and hotter as they ran through the forest, but neither man was enjoying the swirling colours. The trees splintered and snapped from behind them as they were annihilated by the flames. They ran faster, their legs pumping in tandem and both of them thinking the same thing.

 _How the frell did we get here?!_

...

Ford rolled silently off his stomach and unto his feet. He cursed himself for falling asleep as he focused on the strange noise. He turned when he realized it came up from behind him. He moved fast enough to give himself whiplash, his hand going to his gun. Ford's heart pumped wildly as he leveled his gun right onto...a man. His brother. Ford breathed a sigh of relief and was about to lower the gun when Stan turned.

Ford gasped and suddenly his palms were sweaty with fear as he lifted the gun back to its position, he growled, trying to keep himself from panicking.

"Bill."

Stan's mouth laughed, his back bending backward with the force of Bill's mirth. Ford shuddered at the sight, fear, and anger coursing through him as he watched his brother's body being used as a puppet. Stan's body straightened back up and Bill wiped a tear from Stan's eye. Ford's blood froze when he realized that something looked off, something other than the yellow hue of Stan's eyes.

Tears aren't _red._ Blood pooled in Stan's eye and Bill cackled at the look of pure terror etched onto Ford's face. He tightened his grip on his gun.

"Bill! Release him!" Ford commanded. He had just gotten his brother back! He couldn't lose him now! But Bill made Stan's lips split into a spine-chilling smile.

"AW, FORDSY! YOU DON'T REALLY WANT ME GONE, DO YOU?" Bill, using Stan's legs, stalked closer and Ford stood his ground, keeping the gun between him and _-Stan-_ Bill.

"Don't come any closer! I'll shoot!" Ford's brow was set in a determined grimace and Bill hesitated for a moment. The moment passed and that disgusting grin was back. Seeing it on Stan's, on _their_ face was unnerving. He swallowed, keeping his face in a scowl as not to tip off Bill.

"REALLY? YOU WOULD SHOOT YOUR OWN BROTHER? SIXER, I'M PROUD OF YOU!" Bill looked at Stan's hands for a moment. "SO IT WOULDN'T BOTHER YOU IF I DID-" Bill took Stan's pointer finger and began pulling it back. Ford's eyes widened as the bone cracked. "THIS!?"

"No!" Ford lunged forward and pushed _not Stan, not Stan_ Bill to the ground and kept both arms pinned to the ground. Ford's fist naturally hung in the air, ready to lash out. Bill didn't struggle. Ford couldn't believe his eyes when that ghastly grin grew larger.

"GO AHEAD! BEAT ME TO A PULP! YOU KNOW HOW I ENJOY A GOOD BLOODBATH!" Bill cackled cruelly at the conflicted look on Ford's face. In a split second, Ford was suddenly several feet away. Bill tsked.

"NOW, THAT'S DISAPPOINTING! I THOUGHT WE WERE REALLY GETTING SOMEWHERE!" Bill, without any warning, broke the second of Stan's fingers. Ford paled and he snarled at Bill.

"Let him go, Cipher! He's not the one you want!" Ford's hands were fists at his side, clenched in anger. Bill chuckled, the sound cold and disturbing coming from Stan's throat.

"BUT WE WERE JUST STARTING TO HAVE FUN IQ!" Bill examined Stan's good hand, looking at the nails. "I THINK I CAN DO SOMETHING WITH THIS!" He started scratched a long, bloody red line down Stan's arms and Ford felt panic building in his chest, closing his throat off. He wanted to look away.

He couldn't.

...

Stan stirred from his sleep, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the intense brightness of the new morning.

 _Where...am I?_ Stan pushed himself off the sharp grass and stared at the field in front of him. The rolling hills, the strangely pink tinged look everything had. The smell of something distinctly peachy lingering in his nose. He glanced to his left, his tired mind not quite caught up.

A fire, burning low sat at his side and Stan quickly scooted away from the dying embers. He recalled to many a night waking up with burns on his side when he cuddled a bit to close to a fire similar. His eyes flickered up when a moan sounded from the other side of the fire.

He froze. Suddenly everything clicked together.

A brother.

A portal.

Bright- too bright, pain- A reunion with a terrifying man. A boot pressed against his chest. Storytelling, laughter, a hug.

He had a feeling he was recalling this all out of order, but he remembered, he did. He remembered that he was finally _here._ He had found his brother, he was _home._

Well, sort of. Stan picked himself slowly off the dirt, giving the moaning man a concerned glare. He looked even more worn down and...old in the morning light. He looked like Stan.

Stan snorted. It took ten years for Stan to get this 'I've seen everything look.' Ford always got it easy. He shook the dust off his pants and stepped closer to Ford. He was loathed to wake him up, but Stan really wasn't sure what to do. Now if they were in the alleyways of New York? He'd know where to go, where not to go, he'd have allies and some...less helpful acquaintances. But here? This...wilderness wasn't anything he'd ever seen before.

Stan sighed. Guess he'd have to do what he'd always done. Adapt. He kneeled down beside Ford. His eyes widened when Ford's face was screwed up in what seemed like pain. A nightmare. Stan quickly shook his shoulder to wake him up.

He never liked seeing his brother in pain.

"Gah!" Ford shot upwards, sending Stan flying backward with a thud onto the hard ground. Ford swung from side to side. One second he was asleep and unarmed. The next, Stan was staring down the barrel of a strange looking gun. Stan's eyes flew wide open and his heart pumped wildly against his chest with adrenaline.

Well, this was a morning. He'd decide on the good or bad part later.

"Woah now! Ford, calm down." Stan kept his hands above his head and looked Ford right in his bloodshot and frantic eyes. His voice was as soothing as he could manage. "C'mon bud, put down the...thing. Gun, whatever that is."

Ford was panting, his fingers twitching. His eyes narrowed. "Stanley?"

Stan nodded hurriedly. "Their ya go! It's me bro, just me."

 _Crap, what did I put this guy through?_ Stan shook the thought away. He could wrack himself with guilt later. Later. Strangely, Ford's hands weren't shaking as he slowly put the pistol down at his side. His eyes were still narrowed in suspicion. Stan yelped as Ford lept forward and grabbed him by his shirt, staring at him right in the eyes. Stan didn't move as Ford's breathing minutely came back down to normal. After another moment he let Stan fall to the ground.

He cleared his throat. "My apologies, Stanley." Ford cleared his throat again and turned away, putting his gun thing back in its holster. "We should keep moving."

Stan gaped from his spot on the ground. _What did I do to deserve this!?_ "Are we just gonna ignore-"

"Yes."

Ford's word was firm and no-nonsense. Stan's jaw flew shut, his teeth clacking.

"Was it something I did?"

The question slipped out between his teeth without warning and Stan scolded himself mentally for it. Ford was standing stock still a couple feet away. Stan quickly got up from the dirt for the third or fourth time after being knocked down _again_.

"Never mind, you said you didn't want to talk-"

And...he was on the ground again. Ford crashed into him without warning, but the action held no fear or menace like just a moment before. Ford's arms were crushing him, pinning his arms to his side. Stan yelped.

"Ford! What the frack- I can't b-breathe!" Stan wasn't sure if he was being hugged our choked out. Ford quickly let him go. He looked down and speedily walked away, picking up the few things they had on the ground and kicking out the dying fire in quick succession. Stan ran a confused, tired hand over his face in exasperation. Ford was acting like he was bipolar or something and Stan was getting a bit tired of it.

"We should get going." Ford's voice was monotone and Stan still couldn't see his face.

"Ford what the heck. Are you _trying_ to murder me!?" Stan jumped off the ground and didn't bother trying to brush away the grass stains as he forced Ford to look him in the eye. Maybe Stan thought Ford was a little (very) scary, but people probably thought the same of Stan, and Stan wasn't one to let people get the best of him. He needed answers, so Stan grabbed Ford by the shoulders, swinging him around to look him face to face. Ford didn't struggle, but he wasn't limp either.

"Stanley, we should keep going. We've already stayed in this ecosphere long enough." Ford's eyes were hard and the set of his jaw firm. He almost reminded Stan of their father. Stan forced back a shudder just at the thought. He kept Ford's gaze.

"Look, Ford. I don't know what you dreamed about, but it wasn't real, alright? I'm fine, your fine, we're in the middle of nowhere, away from everything and everyone, kinda just like we wanted, right? But I _need_ you to stop _trying to fracking kill me!"_ Stan took a deep breath, then swallowed. He let go of Ford's shoulders and stepped away.

"I'm sorry, I get it if you don't want to talk, but you're being fracking cryptic and I barely understand that I'm even here right now, and my long lost brother who I thought was dead- attacking me every five minutes isn't helping." Stan stepped away further. Ford still hadn't spoken. Stan bit his lip and slowly sat down before he was thrown to the ground again. Just beating fate to the punch. He almost stood up again when Ford started hyperventilating.

"Uh, Ford?" Stan's brows furrowed and he reached out, right as Ford knocked into him again. _Glad I sat down._ Ford was still hyperventilating, but this time it felt less like he was being choked to death and more like a hug.

"Um. Ford? You're kinda scaring me."

Ford's breathing cut off altogether. Stan's voice pitched in panic, "Woah! Okay, you not breathing is _not_ helping." Stan cleared his throat. "Look, I can't help if I don't know what's wrong..." Stan trailed off and started again when Ford didn't say anything. He still wasn't breathing. "Okay, okay. So this is what I know. You're a kick butt spaceman, we're in the middle of nowhere and you have bipolar depression or something. That's what I _think_ I know. But Ford you haven't told me anything! I've been here less than a day, but you keep doing weird stuff with no explanation. Like trying to commit fratricide." Stan laughed a bit. "Heh, always knew that's how I'd go out. None of the Mob bosses came close to your temper!" Stan snickered, but the sound was tense.

Stan couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed without feeling like he was in danger.

Even last night- Ford just put off a vibe that had Stan on his guard without him even trying. He didn't want to be afraid, he _shouldn't_ be afraid! Ford was his brother! Family sticks together.

Usually. He might not have been joking about him dying via fratricide...it seemed pretty likely at this point, anyway.

Stan was getting caught up in his thoughts and he almost didn't notice when Ford started breathing again. Almost.

"Hey! That's better!" Stan laughed a bit when the hug tightened slightly. He couldn't see Ford's face but he seemed to be relaxing just somewhat. Ford was buried in his side. Stan felt like he was being leaned against by a giant, anxiety-filled, scary looking, cat. He almost went to ruffle Ford's hair as a joke, but he really wasn't sure if Ford would appreciate that.

...

Ford was having a panic attack.

He recognized the symptoms, but he couldn't ever remember experiencing them before. He had woken up from what must have been either a nightmare or Bill attempting to torment him. He was inclined to think the latter, but he had never been an optimist.

It had seemed so real. The blood. The way the bones cracked-

Ford scowled at the ground and growled. Bill was going to pay for even _pretending_ to hurt his brother. He kicked out the fire, nearly losing his balance. He was saying something but he couldn't hear himself, but he could feel his throat working. Suddenly Stan was right there, in his face, staring him down. Stan was saying something too. Wait no, Stan come back-

Stan was gone. Ford's heart was almost painfully racing in his chest. Nonononon Bill- He had to protect-

Stan was there. Stan was with Ford. Stan was safe. Stan was also saying something. Ford tried to listen, he really did, but the words were coming in like static. It was like reading with his glasses off, but with his ears? Ford wasn't sure if that made sense. If anything did. {does that even make sense, please say I'm not the only one who gets that}

Ford clenched his teeth and listened harder. He needed to calm down. Stan was here. Stan was safe.

As he focused it was like he was tunning into a radio station, the words sharpening, coming in clearer and fewer words getting cut out.

"...kick...spaceman, we're in the middle of nowhere...bipolar depress... I _think..._ Ford, you haven't told me anything! I've been here less than a day, but you keep doing weird stuff with no explanation. Like trying to commit _fratricide_."

Ford's brow furrowed. Fratricide. Fratricide...

 _The killing of a brother or sister._

Ford took in an abrupt breath. When did he stop breathing? He could feel how his arms held on harder. _Stay. Bill- can't leave, you don't know-_

" Heh, always knew that's how I'd go out. None of the Mob bosses came close to your temper!" Ford blinked at the words. Was Stan...laughing? What were they talking about? Was murder something you laughed about now? How long had he been gone again?

"Hey! That's better!" Ford could hear the victory in Stan's voice. Ford didn't let him go. Nothing was safe, safety was an illusion.

"No, n-no- no. No, no nO-" Ford could hear something else? It didn't sound like Stan. Was Stan speaking? No, he was. That was his voice.

"Ford? What is it?" Now that was Stan's voice. Ford could hear himself keep up the steady stream of 'no's' even as Stan spoke. What was 'no'? No Bill? That seemed like a good thing. Ford wished he had his journals. Any journal. A pen.

Anything to help him organize his thoughts. He felt unstable. Something was going to go wrong. He was _sure_ of it. But Stan was here, right here and he was right here and Bill wasn't anywhere because Bill came during sleep and sleep was last night. But they were also somewhere. Somewhere that wasn't home or even shelter. They were in an open field. Too long, he'd been still too long! They needed to move-

"Woah, where do you think you're goin'!?" Ford was moving, but something stopped him and Ford tugged but something didn't budge. "Ford. You aren't ready to move yet, you're barely breathing! What, no, stop struggling, we are _not_ moving yet!" Stan's voice was telling him to stay still. Was that okay? Staying still hadn't ever been good before.

"Stanley! We need to move!" Ford could hear his voice come in clear, yet reality still seemed to be covered in a hazy film he could barely see through. Somethin- Stan held both his arms and Ford couldn't- didn't move.

Stan was keeping him still again. Ford wasn't sure he was going to allow this for very long.

"Ford. How many days have you been here?"

Ford's brow furrowed. He could do this, math, calculations, numbers, facts were easy. He breathed slightly easier. "Four." He nodded as he recounted. "I have been in this dimension for four days. You have been here for twelve or so earth hours."

Stan nodded. "Alright, so how long do you usually stay in one place?"

"As little time as I can manage. I might be- wanted- in a couple dimensions-" Ford's choked on his words, his throat slipping into a growl. Stan loosened his grip and stepped back again.

"Hey. That's okay, you aren't _in_ those dimensions, right? No one knows you're here!" Stan sounded weird. Ford was reminded of those annoying commercials on the discovery channel. Goodness, it had been years since he'd sat down and watched a documentary. Ford sighed.

His head hurt, but the strange blurry quality of everything was finally clearing, and that meant that Stan was actually making some sort of sense...He shook his head.

"No, they'll find me. I- we have to keep moving!" Ford scowled. "We need supplies."

Stan looked considerate at that. "True, but supplies can wait for another ten minutes." Stan took a step forward and Ford growled out until Stan stopped moving. Ford abruptly turned his head and stared intently off in the distance.

He swung his head to look back at Stan, his eyes wide.

" _Run."_

* * *

 **Oaky Well I'm not going to apologize when my brain decides it doesn't know what to do next. Guess you'll have to see what happens in the next chapter, won't you? :P**

 **XD Hi MM! (Miss Mystery.) also, I hope your keyboard isn't dead forever XD) YOU ASK GOOD QUESTION. I HAVE NO ANSWER. Pie...because of...um. Reasons. :) I hope this makes it feel less abandoned...cause it's not! I SWEAR TO YOU ALL IT'S NOT-**

 **I still don't know if this makes sense.**

 **Stan: It doesn't.**

 **Me: WHO ASKED YOU STANLEY PINES-**


	7. It all ties together later on I promise

**My blood is BOILING. This picks up right at the last chapter's ending. If it's been awhile, I suggest you go reread. I know I did. A little catch-up; Ford was having a panic attack because of his nightmare or something of the sort. Then he was just like "RUN" and Stan is just like "WHAT IS GOING ON." Tw: Existing. Emotions. Returning from the void and taking human form. XD** **  
**

* * *

Chalk it up to two years worth of death-defying acts of stupidity and a bit of luck, but Stanford was proud to say that his instincts had never been wrong. {So far.} So when his overwhelming feeling of panic was suddenly submerged by an ocean of adrenaline, that feeling of {his brother's} impending doom didn't seem so irrational anymore. His neck screamed in retaliation, straining it as he jerked it around, eyes wide with fear.

"Run."

Ford couldn't wait to see if Stan would listen. Instead, he ripped himself away from his brother's arms, forcing himself into a sprint. He closed his eyes as he ran, listening. The wind shrieked in his ears as he ran. His heart was hammering against his chest, threatening to burst. He strained his ears, searching for what had made him run in the first place.

He knew he shouldn't have stayed put for so long.

If he weren't using up all available oxygen for breathing, he would have growled. The only thing he could hear was the pounding of feet against the grass. His head snapped up, eyes flashing open as he realized- _his weren't the only ones._ In his peripheral vision, he could see a white blur running right behind him. Despite himself, the panic holding his lungs captive {he fought for every breath} lessened its hold.

 _He followed me._ Stan was running. Stan wasn't dead...yet. Ford still needed to identify the threat. What had he seen!? What had his subconsciousness discerned and warned him about before he had a chance to recognize it?

 _"FORD! WHAT IS THAT!?"_

Stan was yelling, trying to speak over the rushing wind. He was pointing at something ahead of them, his stride faltering. Ford's eyes flickered away from Stan's dubious footing to the hills before him. He felt his heart skip a beat.

 _Is that a- no. It couldn't possibly- it can't be!_

Ford forced himself into a stop, dirt flying as he did. His entire body was pulsing with energy, his feet begging him to move again. He shot out one arm to stop Stan, who ran right into it.

"A Chimera." Ford didn't stop to see Stan's reaction to his words; his mind was racing now that his feet had stopped. In front of him was a Chimera- a large, supposedly mythical creature. With a lion's body and a snakes tail, and some random goat elements scattered throughout its frame, it made for a horrifying sight. If Ford had been in a better headspace, it would have been _fascinating._ He observed as the creature in question set fire to the trees in the distance. The smoke billowing up in differing shades of red. Quickly! What did he know about Chimera's?

 _They represent chaos, natural disasters, evil. Two heads, six legs, wings, one tail. Breathe's fire._ He rattled off the facts in his head, aware that they only had moments to act. He was vaguely aware of someone- _Stan -_ calling out to him, but he ignored it, favoring instead to save their lives. _Weaknesses!? What are their deficiencies!? The gaps in their armor!?_ Ford's hands clenched into fists. _"Can't think, can't think-"_

"Uh, Ford." Stan was staring off into the distance, looking backward. Why wasn't he more concerned about the Chimera? Wasn't that a priority here? Ford shook his head frantically, he needed to _think!_

"Ford! You should see this..." Stan was snapping his fingers, trying to get Ford's attention. He finally turned, a growl rumbling up his throat. He wasn't sure why he was growling- there was nothing his vocals could do that would intimidate a Chimera. His frustration, however, was immediately subdued as another uninvited guest came crashing down into Ford's _very wide_ bubble of personal space. He blinked, adjusting his glasses.

"Is that..." Ford began, "A flying snake...leaf?"

Stan didn't answer. Ford wasn't sure if he wanted to know. All he _knew_ was that there were two very dangerous looking creatures that were too close for comfort. He watched, his body completely still as the snake thing- _Snakafe, I suppose, -_ flew above their heads. He followed it with his eyes as it soared right past them, heading straight for the Chimera.

"Ford..." Stan was pulling at his sleeve now, "Should we really just stand and watch? I mean, shouldn't we run or somethin'?" He asked, his voice wavering with uncertainty. Ford ripped his sleeve away from Stan's hand, still tense, even as they watched the Snakafe tear the Chimera apart. _No, we can't. I have no idea what that thing is! What if it sensed the Chimera's movement? It could easily turn on us next! It hasn't gone for us yet, because it has a preferable meal on hand, but I won't take that chance._ The thoughts ran through his head unchecked, not one word making it past his lips.

 _"_ Ford?" Stan had stopped pulling at him, his voice softer than before. Ford shushed him, grabbing his arm to drag him to the ground. _Oh, how I wish you could read my mind._ He lied on his stomach, making sure Stan did the same, getting them both as close to the ground as possible. Ford was aware of the sounds of discomfort Stan expressed but did nothing to acknowledge them. Neither of them was strangers to pain.

"Shh." Ford let go of Stan's arm, trusting him to keep still as he thought. _If_ the Snakafe (Note to self: Do not tell Stanley I have already named it) _does_ sense movement, would it go after them after such a large meal? Both creatures were immense in stature. Yet nothing was ever as it seemed out in the multiverse, as it had already proven. If there was one thing Ford had never expected to meet, other than his very own twin brother, it was a Chimera. A beast from such aged Greek mythology, its name had become slang for delusion or wishful thinking.

Ford wanted to tear out his hair. It was too much! Normally, it was his own life at stake. He could act off instinct immediately. He may have missed his brother, but having him around was _not_ helpful. Not when Ford had to try and relate his thoughts coherently in death or life situations. Ford glanced at the brother in question. They were basically resting now, just waiting until the danger passed. If it did.

If it didn't, he always had his gun.

He scanned his brother for any injuries, just a once over. It was the first time he really noticed his brother since he had woken up- _has it really only been ten minutes? -_ from his nightmare. He frowned when he noticed Stan was trembling.

Ford...wasn't sure what to do. Stan was staring at the Snakafe and the Chimera, watching the snakafe slowly devour it. His eyes were wide and his face pale. Stanley was exhibiting all the symptoms of severe fear _._ Ford grimaced, glancing at the now feasting Snakafe.

 _Too much, too much, too much-_

"Stanley," Ford stated. Stan looked at him, making eye contact almost immediately. Ford tried his best at a reassuring nod. "On my mark, we're going to get up and run," Ford pointed to the forest's edge on their left, "right for those trees. Alright?" He waited until Stan gave him a nod in return before turning his head back to the Snakafe and its dinner.

The wingless flying leaf snake {yeah, definitely just sticking with Snakafe.} took its time, almost as if it were savoring the Chimera it had so mercilessly mangled. Ford stalled, waiting for the face of the creature to turn away from them completely.

As soon as it seemed they were out of Snakafe's sight, he was on his feet, dragging his brother's arm alongside him.

" _ScreeEEE!"_

Ford nearly jumped out of his skin. The Chimera's second head wasn't too keen on being swallowed. He ran faster on instinct, dropping Stan's arm. He didn't wait to see if Stanley was keeping up.

The treeline was mere meters away, or so it seemed. As soon as Ford's foot stepped within a foot of the first tree, the entire forest was... gone. He stopped up long enough to see Stan rush past him. Ford followed after him. He didn't have time to worry about disappearing-

Where was Stanley? Ford twisted in a full three-sixty, eyes wide.

" _Stanley!"_

* * *

 **So... I had peach cobbler yesterday. That was nice. Ahem, I've actually had this half written in my doc manager for a while... I hope it isn't too confusing. I SWEAR IT ALL TIES TOGETHER LATER ON-**

 **Stan: Forgive them if they don't believe you.**

 **Ford: Forgive _me_ if I don't believe you. **

**Me: Ya'll are jerks but I love you.**

 **Ford: ...**

 **Stan: Haha yeah I have that effect on people.**


End file.
